


The Usual Suspects

by mascaret



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-06 09:24:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11033325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mascaret/pseuds/mascaret
Summary: Dembe takes the evening off leaving Elizabeth in charge of keeping Raymond Reddington in line.  All she has to do is feed him and get him to the safe house.  Can she do it?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N Written during the first part of season 4. Takes place during season 3. Not going to lie - after the back half of season 4 this one hurts.

_The Usual Suspects_

“Don't let him drive. He won't admit to it, but his night vision is getting terrible. It's your call, but I don't let him ride in the front with me. He's a bad enough backseat driver when he's in the backseat.”

Dembe handed her the keys to the Mercedes and continued with his instructions. “He hasn't eaten yet. You'll need to feed him before you bring him to the safe house. If he tries to order an espresso after dinner, don't let him. He'll never go to sleep. If he insists, get them to change it out for decaf without telling him. If you go to any of our regular places, they'll know to do it without you asking.”

Dembe hesitated. “Are you sure you don't mind?”

Liz laughed and put her hand on the swell of her abdomen. “From the sounds of it, this will be good practice.”

Dembe handed her a burner phone. “I will have his phone. You hold this one. If someone calls and I feel they really need to reach him, I will give them this number. Don't let him hold it between calls.”

Liz raised an eyebrow, but she didn't ask.

“The speed dial has been pre-programmed. Don't hesitate to call me. I'm #2 on the speed dial.”

“Only #2?” Liz teased. “Who is #1?”

“Mr. Kaplan.”

“Of course. How silly of me.”

“Dial #1 if it is a regular emergency, but if it's a medical emergency -”

“- *77.” Liz supplied. “You do realize that Reddington and I were alone together on the run for months. I think I can handle babysitting him for one night.”

“That was different. He was on a mission. He had a purpose. A focus. He can get into a bit of trouble left to his own devices.”

“I've got this.” Liz assured Dembe.

“Thank you, Elizabeth.”

Liz couldn't resist. “What's her name?”

Dembe played dumb. “Who's name?”

“Your hot Tuesday night date?”

“It's not a date.” Dembe corrected her.

“I see … Is your not-a-date with a woman?” Liz teased.

Joining them, Reddington answered for him. “Of course it's a woman. Why else would Dembe be abandoning me? What ever happened to bros before -”

His face quite stern, Dembe didn't let Reddington finish his not very nice limerick. “- She's not a -”

Reddington interrupted him so that Dembe didn't have to say the word either.

“- Ah ha! But you do admit that it is a she! What's her name and does she have a friend for me?”

“I'm not telling you and weren't you the one that said I needed to find a better work/life balance?”

“That I did.” Reddington admitted. “Go and have your fun.”

Dembe put his arms on Reddington's shoulders. “Be safe, my brother.”

Turning to Elizabeth, he added. “Both of you, be safe and Elizabeth … don't let him talk you into anything.”

“I won't.” Liz assured him.

“Feed him and then straight to the safe house.”

Liz mock saluted. “Aye aye, Captain.”

Dembe hesitated at her lack of seriousness.

Liz scolded him. “Would you just _go_?! What's the worst that can happen? I can handle Raymond Reddington for one evening!”

Liz and Reddington both watched Dembe until the doors of the Post Office elevator closed.

“Well Lizzie, I don't know about you, but I am famished! What do you say we hit up the diner on the way to the safe house?”

 

_tbc_

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

_Chapter Two_

 

Entering the diner, Reddington nodded his head in greeting to the establishment's sometimes waitress, all the time owner and most importantly pie maker. By Liz's estimate, Shelby was a little older than Reddington. She had a pretty face, a slight Southern drawl, and a very low tolerance for anything or anyone she didn't like.

As Elizabeth followed Reddington to a booth to wait - not for menus, but for their usual order to just be brought over - considering her current condition, Liz wondered aloud. “Do you think we should get something more substantial than just pie?”

“You get the blueberry pie. Blueberries are incredibly healthy. They are full of antioxidants.”

“True, but blueberry pie is also full of sugar.”

Reddington glanced at her conflicted expression before letting his gaze wander down to her abdomen. As something of a compromise, he offered. “If you're really concerned, we can order something more substantial _after_ we have pie … instead of the usual more pie.”

Liz wasn't a hard sell. The pie here was truly amazing. It was even better than Aunt June's back in Nebraska. “That works.”

They had been in their seats for less than a minute, but Liz found herself craning her neck to see where Shelby was with their order. One of the perks of going places with Reddington was that you never did seem to have to wait long for _anything._ Indeed, Shelby was already headed their way.

It was odd. Usually Shelby would stay to chat after bringing them their order, but tonight there was a bit of small talk in greeting but just as soon as she put down their order, she walked away. The diner didn't look  _that_ busy …

Digging into her slice of blueberry pie, Liz didn't really think much of it … until Reddington went to take a bit of his.

Looking truly horrified, as if Shelby had served him a pie made of insects and rodents - not apples, Reddington called her back. _“Shelby … this isn't my order.”_

Reluctantly, Shelby turned back. “Sorry darlin'. New girl. She didn't know any better. She let somebody else have your slice of pecan pie.”

Liz looked over at the display case. There was still one slice left. She said as much.

Reddington corrected her. “Shelby is saving that slice for someone _very_ special. Isn't that right, Shelby?”

“That's right, darlin'.” Shelby agreed.

Liz was amazed to finally find someone who wouldn't give Raymond Reddington what he wanted. “And you don't consider Reddington to be special?”

Shelby put her arm around Reddington's shoulder in a friendly, familiar gesture. “Oh he's special all right.”

Reddington slipped his arm around Shelby's waist as he chastised Liz. “Shelby thinks I'm special. Just not the _last_ slice of pecan pie special. I'm a _second_ to the last slice of pecan pie special.”

Naturally, Liz had to ask. “So who is save the last slice of pecan pie special?”

“One time, many, many years ago - before you were even born - Mr. Kaplan came in here and Shelby was all out of her marvelous pecan pie. Mr. Kaplan didn't want anything else so she just had coffee. Ever since then, Shelby has made sure to always save a slice of the pecan pie for Mr. Kaplan.”

It was probably the hormones, but Liz found that to be the sweetest thing. “That's adorable.”

The warm fuzzy feeling was allowed to hang over them for only a moment before Reddington got down to business or at least tried to.

“Shelby, what if I assured you that Mr. Kaplan is out of town at the moment and there is absolutely no chance of her coming in to claim her slice of pecan pie? Then would you let me have it?”

Shelby flat out refused. “No.”

Reddington frowned and turned to stare at the lone remaining slice of pie.

“What if we cut the piece in half? Give half to me. Save half for Mr. Kaplan.”

“Honey, some people when they get to a certain age, their metabolism starts to change. They don't need that extra piece of dessert every day. Now Mr. Kaplan on the other hand, she looks like she could do with a few home cooked meals.”

Though he looked slightly affronted, Red refused to surrender. “What if I called Mr. Kaplan _right now_ and asked her if it would be okay for you to give me her slice of pecan pie? Then could I have it?”

Shelby held her ground. “No.”

“I could put her on speaker phone so you could hear her yourself.”

Shelby had a little flirt to her smile as she answered and it wasn't for Reddington. “I would have to hear it from her in person.”

Reddington tilted his head and narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “You just want to see Mr. Kaplan. Is there _even_ a new girl? Or did you give away my slice of pie to try to get me to get Mr. Kaplan in here?”

Shelby neither confirmed nor denied his suspicions. “I made another pecan pie. It's in the oven right now. It's going to be another ten to fifteen minutes.”

“That's good, but you do realize that in exchange for getting Mr. Kaplan in here I'm going to be expecting more than just _a_ slice. I'm going to need that _whole_ pie.”

Shelby didn't say anything, but she had a big smile as she walked away taking the uneated slice of apple pie with her.

“Lizzie, I'm going to need the phone I know Dembe gave you.”

Liz hesitated. “I'm not sure you wanting pie qualifies as an actual emergency.”

Reddington scoffed. “Where is your sense of romance?”

“Isn't Mr. Kaplan already seeing someone?”

“Maybe so, but which do you think would be the better match? Shelby, who is kind and sweet and caring and bakes us all the most wonderful pies? Or the homicidal maniac that stages elaborate crime scenes to frame people for crimes they didn't commit?”

“The better match or the better life choice?”

“Touche.” Reddington acknowledged.

Still, Liz found herself fishing the phone out of her pocket and handing it over.

“Mr. Kaplan! I need to see you. No, it can't wait until tomorrow. It has to be now. No, it's not something I can talk about over the phone. I need to see you in person. Right away. I'm at the diner.”

Before closing the flip phone, Reddington added. “Kate, you're my only hope. _Please!_ Hurry!”

_tbc_

 


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

 

“Ah Mr. Kaplan!” Reddington rose to kiss her on the cheek in greeting. “Thank you for coming!”

“What's the situation?” Mr. Kaplan asked without preamble.

“Before we get to that … would you please tell Shelby that you don't want the last slice of pecan pie? That it would be okay for her to give it to me?”

“Raymond, you did not seriously just call me down here over a slice of pecan pie?”

“No. Of course not.” Reddington lied.

Mr. Kaplan looked at him expectantly, but Reddington had nothing to offer.

Mr. Kaplan sighed. “You called me out here over a slice of pecan pie.”

Reddington bit his lip, confirming his guilt.

Mr. Kaplan took out her cell phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“Dembe. So he doesn't come in here guns blazing like he did in the hangar bay.”

“You called Dembe to tell him I called you? You tattled on me? What are we, in the fourth grade?”

Mr. Kaplan didn't answer. She was too busy talking into the phone. “I told you it was nothing to worry about. The diner ran out of the kind of pie he likes.”

There was a brief pause before she added. “Yes, I am serious and no, I am not making it up.”

Elizabeth squirmed in her seat as a still on the phone Mr. Kaplan glanced her way. “Well then she must have given it to him because he called me.”

As Mr. Kaplan hung up, Shelby came over with the prized piece of pie on her tray.

“Thank you, Shelby.” Liz found it absolutely adorable the shy way Mr. Kaplan kept her head down and didn't look at Shelby as she said it.

When she added not just a coffee, but a small dish of ice cream, Reddington scowled and Liz called foul. “Wait a minute! Mr. Kaplan gets ice cream with hers? I want ice cream!”

“Listeria.” Mr. Kaplan reminded her.

Liz sulked at the reminder that she couldn't have ice cream.

Reddington shook his head. “How can you ruin that perfectly good piece of pie by putting _chocolate_ ice cream on it?!”

“I don't put the ice cream on it. I alternate bites.”

Shelby chimed in. “I saved you the crossword puzzle. Let me just go and get it.”

“Thank you, Shelby.” The way Mr. Kaplan said it – _'ThankyouShelby'_ – it was like it was all one word.

As soon as Shelby stepped away, Reddington started to plead Shelby's case. “Shelby likes you. I think you should ask her out.”

“I have enough crazy in my life, Raymond. I don't need more.”

Reddington feigned surprise. “Oh! Are you still seeing Vanessa?”

“I was referring to you, Raymond.”

“I'm not crazy.”

Mr. Kaplan stared at him with a mix of pity and disbelief. “Raymond, you called me out here at nine o'clock at night over a slice of pie.”

“Yes, but it's not just _any_ pie. It's _Shelby's_ _pecan_ _pie_.”

“As for Shelby, don't you find it the slightest bit odd that she saves a piece of pie for me everyday with no idea whether or not I will come in? Doesn't that seem like a waste of a lot of perfectly good food?”

Liz gave her opinion. “I think it's sweet.”

“It's wishful thinking.” Reddington argued. “She's being hopeful.”

They stopped talking as Shelby returned with the crossword puzzle – or more accurately puzzles. She put down a stack of them neatly clipped out from the newspaper. Taking the pencil out of her updo, she set that too down next to Mr. Kaplan.

Mr. Kaplan gave another “ThankyouShelby” as she quirked an eyebrow at Reddington.

Once Shelby left, Reddington tried to argue. “It's just the crossword puzzle. It would weird if she saved the whole paper for you _or_ if she kept the ones you've completed.”

Hesitantly, Reddington asked. “She doesn't keep the ones you've completed – does she?”

Liz looked at the pile. “That looks like a two week stack. I can see why Shelby felt the need to resort to desperate measures to get you in here.”

“She's always talking about trying to fatten me up. Why does she need more meat on my bones? It's very Hansel and Gretel.”

Reddington looked horrified. “What is wrong with you? Where do you come up with these things? She's not going to bake you in her oven. She just wants you to eat a sandwich.”

They all went quiet as Shelby returned to the table with her part of the bargain – an entire pecan pie just for Reddington.

Mr. Kaplan raised an eyebrow at the sight of it.

“I put it in a takeaway box for you because I know how you folks are always getting suddenly called away and while I know how much you _should_ eat right now, I wasn't sure how much you would try to eat.

Reddington lifted the lid and made a great show of wafting the scent of the pie towards himself. “Heavenly Shelby. Just heavenly. The take out box is entirely unnecessary but I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

Shelby shook her head as she again stepped away.

“You're not seriously going to try to eat that entire pie in one sitting?” Liz asked as Reddington scrounged around for a fork. Shelby had taken his away along with the offending slice of apple pie.

“There is no try, young padawan. There is only do or do not. The summer I was twelve there was a pie eating contest on Nantucket -”

Mr. Kaplan wasn't interested in hearing his story. “- Raymond, I've know you for more than thirty years ...”

“Closer to thirty-five.” Reddington corrected her as he reached for Mr. Kaplan's untouched fork.

She moved it out of his reach. “You sold me out for a pie, Raymond.”

Reddington had no shame as he tried to flag down Shelby to get a new fork. “I didn't sell you. I traded you. And it's not _any_ pie, Kate. It's _Shelby's pecan pie.”_

“I'm leaving now, Raymond. Don't do this again.”

“Come on, Kate. Don't be like that. You're already here. Stay.”

“Raymond, as hard as this may be for you to believe I don't actually sit around the phone waiting for you to call. I have a life. I had other plans for tonight.”

“We don't.” Raymond admitted. “What are you doing? Maybe we'll tag along.”

Mr. Kaplan didn't look too keen on that idea. “ _No.”_

Liz took another bite of her pie as Mr. Kaplan started lecturing him.

“Raymond, you're so fond of telling stories. Surely, you are familiar with the one about the boy who cried wolf?”

Momentarily pulling his attention away from his pie, Reddington looked at her. “Mr. Kaplan, we both know that it doesn't matter how many times I cry wolf. You will always, _always_ come running if you even _suspect_ that I might need you.”

He said it not exactly smugly, but with full confidence. Mr. Kaplan looked irked, but she didn't dispute his assessment.

When Reddington returned his attention to his ill gotten gains and began trying to pick up one of the slices with his fingers, Mr. Kaplan snapped the box shut and pulled it across the table away from him.

“What are you doing?” Reddington asked in alarm.

“Goodnight Raymond. Elizabeth.”

Reddington gasped in horror like a vampire being splashed with holy water as Mr. Kaplan dumped her dish of half melted ice cream over her untouched slice of pecan pie before standing and walking away – taking Reddington's pie and the stack of crossword puzzles with her.

Mr. Kaplan offered up one last, loud, “ThankYouShelby” on her way to the door.

“That was _my_ pie!” Reddington protested. “She took _my_ pie!”

Thinking that was the end of it, Liz shrugged, amused. “Serves you right.”

As the bell on the door jingled, Reddington came up with an idea of something for them to do for the rest of their evening. “Let's follow her.”

 

 

_tbc_

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

“What? No!” Liz protested.

“Why not? She follows you all the time.”

“She does not!”

“She really does. You and your whole team. She calls them _spot checks_. Harold has really got to get you people some better counter surveillance training.”

Not entirely sure if she should believe him, Liz refrained from taking the bait. “She's probably just going to see Vanessa.”

Standing, Reddington disagreed. “I know she isn't going to see Vanessa because Vanessa is out of town.”

Despite her reservations, Liz found herself being dragged in. “On an assignment for you?”

Leaving money on the table to cover their check, Reddington tried to rush her. “Yes, now hurry before she gets away!”

Liz wasn't so sure. “I don't know ...”

“Come on. It will be fun. Trust me. I used to do it all the time when Mr. Kaplan and I were on opposite sides.”

Hefting herself out of her seat, Liz questioned him. “Opposite sides of what?”

“ _The law,_ Lizzie. When I was a white hat and she was a black hat.”

It made sense, but it startled Liz - the idea that Mr. Kaplan and Reddington had once played on opposing sides. “How often did you catch her?”

Reddington's lips turned down before he admitted. “Only when she wanted me to or someone else screwed up.

_OOO_

“Huh ...” Liz had a thought as she drove.

“Huh what?” Reddington asked.

“Oh, it's nothing. It was just an absolutely ridiculous thought.”

“Do share.”

“No, really it was stupid and it doesn't fit. It's way, _way_ off base. I'm just workplace romance paranoid after the whole Ressler-Samar-Aram thing.”

“Well now you have piqued my interest and _have_ to tell.”

“Dembe took the night off because he had plans with some mysterious woman ... Mr. Kaplan couldn't be bothered to stay to chat because she has plans ... You don't get more mysterious than Mr. Kaplan – even her name is a misdirect - but like I said it doesn't fit.”

Liz was a little surprised when Reddington offered no comment.

Eventually, she made a suggestion. “Maybe she isn't going anywhere. Maybe she is just going home. Are we headed in that direction?”

Suddenly, Liz found herself quite curious to see where Mr. Kaplan lived.

“Hard to say. She has apartments all over the city. Drop another car back.” Reddington advised her. “Don't let her spot us.”

Liz did as he said … only to a minute later be told … “ _Don't lose her!_ Get closer! _”_

Dembe was right. Next time they stopped she was going to make him move to the backseat.

Minutes later, almost certain that they had just gone in a complete circle, Liz said it again. “Maybe she's not going anywhere. Maybe Mr. Kaplan just had enough of you for one evening.”

“What's that suppose to mean?”

“You were a little rude back there.”

“The Vanessa thing?”

“Amongst other things.”

Reddington frowned. “Vanessa is a disaster just waiting to happen. I can already tell you how this whole Vanessa thing is going to end – not well _for me.”_

“Your concern for Mr. Kaplan is _truly_ touching.”

Missing her sarcasm or not caring, Reddington continued. “Kate insists it's casual, but it's not – or even if it is, it's not going to stay casual. It never does. Then things aren't going to work out and somehow Vanessa is going to blame me. The only question is if it will take even that long for Vanessa to become worthless to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Kate won't tell Vanessa what _or whom_ to do or more importantly _not_ do. Kate doesn't impose her morality on others, but it _grafts._ Kate has done a lot – and I mean _a lot_ – of questionable things in her time, but she was never one to offer what she called the girlfriend experience.”

“The girlfriend experience?”

“You would be surprised how many men or women would go for the naughty librarian look.”

“I … No. I really wouldn't.” Liz admitted.

“Mr. Kaplan doesn't have the best track record when it comes to relationships. Things always start off well enough – Mr. Kaplan is great at beginnings – but for a while now … let's just say that Kate has had a little trouble sticking the landing. And as for Vanessa? Let's just say that with Vanessa, we're already not exactly starting off with the most stable of foundation materials. I'll consider myself _lucky_ if this ends like Des Moines.”

“Des Moines?” Liz vaguely recalled the topic coming up once before. Reddington had sounded almost giddy, but Mr. Kaplan hadn't looked too thrilled at the reminder. “The coroner's sister? How did that end?”

“With me getting a backside full of buckshot.”

“What?” Liz couldn't help but laugh. “How did that happen?”

“Des Moines was wonderful. Good company, _great_ food. Everybody was having a fine time. Then Kate comes up to me and says it's time to leave. Things weren't working out between her and Susan. She tells me to quickly get my things and meet her at the car.

“On the way out, I stop in the kitchen for a glass of water and run into Susan. I tell her what a wonderful time I had had and how sorry I was that things hadn't worked out between her and Mr. Kaplan, but that I hoped that we could all still be friends.”

Reddington scowled. “At that point, I was still hoping to get the _full_ recipe for that wonderful barley soup we -”

Making a turn, Liz interrupted. “- Mr. Kaplan said it was Reuben soup.”

Reddington shook his head. “She's remembering wrong – it was _definitely_ barley soup. There was this one secret ingredient that the coroner _refused_ to tell me. I could have _sworn_ it was cumin, but he said -”

Liz didn't care. With a grin, she instructed him. “- Skip ahead to the part where you end up with a backside full of buckshot.”

Reddington rolled his eyes. “Turns out Kate was running a little dine and dash number and hadn't told Susan that they were through.”

“You're kidding!” Liz laughed.

“I wish.”

“I still don't understand how you got shot?”

“You've never heard the saying about the messenger?”

Wondering if there was more to it, Liz started to ask another question, but she had to stop short suddenly as Mr. Kaplan pulled over next to a parked police cruiser. The only place for Liz to pull over with such short notice was a cut out in the curb reserved just for city buses.

“What is she doing?” Liz asked. “Did they wave her down?”

Reddington frowned. “I don't think so.”

Liz watched Mr. Kaplan get out of the car and approach the two uniformed officers.

Like an actor playing to the back of the theater, even from a distance, Liz could tell by Mr. Kaplan's body language that her expression was one of alarm.

“What's happening?” Liz asked.

Leaning forward to peer through the windshield, Reddington squinted and admitted. “I don't know.”

It wasn't until Mr. Kaplan turned and pointed in their direction that Reddington figured out what was going on. “She made us! Drive!”

Liz tried, but the none too pleased to see her driver of the arriving bus boxed her in.

Guns drawn, the two police men approached the car.

_tbc_

 


	5. Chapter 5

“I'm on the job. I'm with the F.B.I. I'm going to pull out my ID.”

“Hands on the wheel at 10 and 2!” The officer insisted.

“You get it.” Liz offered. “It's in my front coat pocket.”

His gun still trained on her, his partner's on Reddington, the officer reached into her pocket.”

Liz started to explain. “We were following a suspect. It's dark. There were two cars that left at the same time. We picked one to follow. Clearly, we picked the wrong car to follow.”

“Who's he?”

“I'm her partner. Donald Ressler, Special Agent of the F.B.I.” Using just two fingers, Reddington pulled one of Ressler's business cards out of his breast pocket and handed it over.

When the officers lowered their weapons, Reddington pushed his luck. “That woman, she was at the same restaurant as our suspect. We'd like to question her. See if she saw anything suspicious.”

The officer frowned. “She's pretty shook up. I'll see if she's up for it.”

_OOO_

A call came in over the officers' radio. One of them responded into his shoulder mic while the other addressed Mr. Kaplan who was still doing the sweet little old grandmother routine.

“We need to head out. You okay with us leaving you here with them? Or do you want us to walk you back to your car?”

Mr. Kaplan assured them. “I'll be fine. Thank you, officers.”

Reddington waited for them to be gone before starting.

“Cute Kate."

Mr. Kaplan wasn't looking sweet and grandmotherly anymore. “What did you think you were doing, Raymond?”

“I just wanted to know who you were off to see.”

“You wanted the pecan pie.”

“And I wanted the pecan pie.” Red admitted. “But mostly I wanted to see where you were off to so hot to trot that you couldn't spend a little time with an old friend.”

Mr. Kaplan gave Reddington a withering look. “Raymond, you're not invited.”

He just kept talking. “I love this coat.” Reddington moved closer and gushed as he ran both of his hands along one of her sleeves. “Lizzie, come and feel this.”

“I'm good.” Liz deferred.

“What ever happened to the vicuna coat you promised me?”

“I said if you were a good boy. Have you been?”

Reddington pouted rather than actually answer.  
"Raymond, vicunas are found only in South America. They live in wild herds under conservation laws.  They can only be shorn once every 2-3 years and each vicuna only produces half a kilogram of wool a year. There's a wait list. Do you know how many vicunas it takes to make a coat?"

Reddington shook his head and admitted. “I have no idea. Really, Lizzie. You have to feel this. Do they make baby blankets out of this?”

“I think a blanket made of vicuna wool would be a little excessive.”

“Nothing is too excessive for Lizzie's baby.”

“Raymond, babies are suppose to be dressed in layers because they aren't good at regulating their own body temperature. You don't want them to overheat. Vicunas live in the high altitude areas of the Andes. Their wool was adapted over thousands of years to enable them to survive sub zero temperatures. Have you never noticed that I only wear this coat in the dead of winter on below zero days or when I'm planning to be outside for hours on end digging up dead bodies for you?”

Looking mildly offended and missing her point, Reddington said. “I offered to send Dembe or Baz to do the shoveling.”

Mr. Kaplan stared at him a moment before crooking a finger at Elizabeth in a beckoning motion. Liz thought Mr. Kaplan was inviting her to feel the coat, but when she got closer, Mr. Kaplan took the car keys out of Liz's hand and threw them into the bushes.

Reddington reprimanded her. “Really Kate!”

Mr. Kaplan got back into her car and drove away.

_“Reddington!”_ In alarm, Elizabeth pointed towards Mr. Kaplan's car as it rounded the corner. _“_ Did you see that?”

Reddington nodded. “Give me the phone.”

Liz gave him the burner phone. She tried to take out her more modern phone to use the flashlight app to find the car keys. She couldn't find her phone.

“Kate, just listen. Don't react. You need to turn around and come back here. There is someone in the backseat of your car. When you turned the corner, he popped up.”

Without pause, Mr. Kaplan responded. “Did he have a hook for a hand? Goodnight Raymond.”

“Damn it, Kate! I'm ser –“ Closing the phone, he grimaced. “She hung up. Find the keys.”

“What do you think I'm doing? It's dark and I can't find my phone. It must be in the car – which is locked and _thanks to you_ I don't have the keys.”

Reddington handed her a pocket flashlight and made another call. “Hello Aram. I'm so sorry to disturb you at home, but Lizzie left her phone in Mr. Kaplan's coat and I simply must find it. Could you track it for us?”

_tbc_


End file.
